


The Party

by Kyraelii



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol, Bad Writing, M/M, im sorry im not going to edit this im too tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 14:34:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyraelii/pseuds/Kyraelii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A party involving crazy time shenans and everyone actually being (moderately) friendly to one another has many endings. This one had a very good one for a Strider and his English palhoncho.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Party

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my gosh I'm so sorry... I just wanted to save this somewhere because I'm deleting the page it was on. This is a pretty old work. There's mistakes abound no doubt, so I apologize again. Also this was adapted from a roleplay so it doesn't make much sense with the characters being where they are oops ono sorry!!

Your name is Dirk Strider, it’s 11 o’clock in the morning and you’re not sure you should be going to this party.

            It’s not even for a special occasion. Karkat Vantas, a grumpy-assed troll who you’re only friends with because of reasons you can’t even remember, was forced into throwing a party for everyone.  He had grumbled something about it being an apology before he started screaming at John for laughing about it.

            On the bright side, you know that your best bro and long-time crush is going to be here too.

            You knock on the door you’ve been standing in front of while trying to mentally prepare yourself.  Vantas’ house was pretty big in comparison to the usual suburb houses, and none of the neighbors would be around for the weekend.  Lucky break for him.  The host answers the door after a few long seconds, offering a polite “Either get your ass in the house or fuck off and hang yourself.”  With that, Karkat wheels around and returns to the other partygoers.  You would laugh at him, if displaying emotions was something you did.

            After stepping through the doorway you shrugged off the leather jacket that you had brought on a sudden decision for when you go home later tonight. Other than that, your outfit is the same ironic shit as always: a plain white tee with your iconic orange hat logo, smooth black skinny jeans that subtly show off your thin legs, and a pair of well-kept white sneakers to finish the look.  And of course you have your triangular coolkid sunglasses.  That’s just a given, dude.  Striders don’t get out of bed without their sweet ironic shades.

            After you’ve checked yourself over—clothes are fine, your pale-blond hair is perfectly gelled back—it’s time to head over to the group.  It seems like everyone is hanging out in the main ‘den’.  You slink in as quietly as you can, hoping that nobody notices you.

            It’s hard for people to not notice.

            The only warning you get is your name shouted in a voice with a slight but definitely obvious British accent before you’re nearly bowled over by the impact of a running hug.  You stagger back with a grunt, a smile almost rising to your lips as you wrap your arms around the other.

            There’s also a down side to the party, a sort of double-edged sword: your best friend is a very physical, very happy person.

            “Good to see you chap!” Jake English chuckls, tightening the hug to lift you up off the ground just enough to prove his glee.  Sure, you can’t breathe, but you don’t care.  Jake was the only guy you knew that was taller than you, and he certainly was more muscled than you due to his love for adventure.  Not ridiculously muscled, but it went so well with his tan, lean frame that if you concentrated you could feel the contours of his chest on yours and  _Dirk stop this train of thought Jake is talking._

            “What was that?” Your voice is cool as always, if a bit strained.

            “I said it feels like it’s been ages!” The raven-haired boy sets you down and you can finally breathe again, although the loss of his warmth is a bit disappointing.  You choose to ignore that last thought.

            “Yeah, it’s definitely been too long.” It’s only been a few days.

            “Well come on, don’t hang back chum! We’re just about to start up this do with a game!” Jake beamed.  When didn’t he have that goofy, slightly bucktoothed smile?  It accompanied his rectangular glasses and somewhat-styled hair perfectly.  Adorkable.  He grabs you by the wrist without another word, pulling you over to where everybody was hanging out.  You took this as an opportunity to look Jake over and verify that he’s wearing his usual outfit: a white tee similar to yours but with his own signature logo of a dark green skull, tan shorts that only go halfway down his thighs, and scuffed, dirty white sneakers.  The whole getup screamed outdoorsman, and would usually be topped by his green coat if he hadn’t left it by the door.

            Jake finally lets go of you, and you automatically plop down onto the couch situated behind you.  It’s surprisingly comfortable despite its owner, and Jake sits on your right, his emerald eyes sparkling in silent laughter.

            It’s all you can do not to kiss him.

            “So what game is it?” You ask as you scan the room.  Almost everyone is here in the large room.

            “It’s a spinroll game!” Jane pipes up from the adjacent couch, shooting you a brilliant smile.

            “Spinroll?”

            “You spin the board of names and fucking roll die for an action, that too hard Strider?”  Karkat snaps as he sets up the game board.

            “No problem, Captain Asshole.”  You mock salute the gray-skinned boy.  He glowers at you, curling his top lip.

            “Hey fuckface, why don’t you shut your slime-infested mouth for more that one shitty minute?  Is that too much to ask for?”

            You pause dramatically, as if to mull the question over.  “Can’t.  Sorry.”

            “The fuck ever.  The action is…” He stops with a grimace.  “Lick.”

            Back in the tangle of people you pick up on an angry groan.  So Caliborn was going first then.

            “Who does the angry green fuckwad have to lick, Dave.”  Karkat demands.

            The aforementioned blond coolkid not unlike you spins the arrow.  “Vriska.”

            Laughter and hoots erupts from all around.  Vriska Serket, a troll with what you consider a fetish for spiders, grimaces but doesn’t comment, other than grumbling, “Just get it over with, freak.”

            This party is going to be interesting indeed.

————

            Your name is Jake English, it’s 5 o’clock in the evening and this shindig is definitely interesting.

            The game everyone had been playing was definitely amusing, although there was one occurrence involving you, the clown-faced troll, and the die’s command to spank, but you’ve decided to lock that memory away.  Forever.

            Gosh does your arse sting at the thought though.

            Most people had popped in and out of the party, dropping in to share a few laughs before routines took them out again.  Eventually someone—you suspect Roxy, that gal seems perpetually drunk—cracked into a case of beer.  The game fizzled out after that, and the remaining people were well-bladdered.  You politefully declined to the offer of booze, as did Dirk.  You two were the only ones not smashed off your arses now.

            Over the course of the day you yawned several times.  Today was a rare off-day from your usual expeditions, so you were a tad tired.  You ended up snuggled against your best pal, who didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

            That leads you to another thought.  Dirk.  He’s currently leaning back on the couch, both arms draped across the top of it.  Your head is resting on his chest, eyes closed.  You can feel him breathe in and out, the steady thumping of his heart, almost in time with yours.  You don’t care about whatever the dickens is going on with the others.  Being with Dirk makes you happy.  You could never tell the bloke your real feelings though.  Why would he ever feel the same?

            “Hey Joke!”

            Your eyes snap open at the horribly slurred pronunciation of your name.  sitting up with a frown, you face the wobbling, snarky troll in front of you and your chum.  “Karkat? What in the—“

            The rest of your sentence is cut off as the drunkard kisses you on the mouth.

            Immediately you shove him away.  “W-what the bloody fuck?! Are you deranged you twisted bloke?!?” You splutter, and you can feel the severe blush on your face.  Your voice is higher than you’d like it to be, which only makes it worse.

            Karkat simply giggles at your outburst before stumbling in the direction of Caliborn.  You try to call him back but your throat is too tight to speak.  It takes several long seconds for you to blink, look up at Dirk, and say quietly, “I feel violated.”

            Your blond friend’s face looks strangely dark, and he’s pointedly glaring at Karkat.  You can tell this even through his obscure shades he insists on wearing everywhere.  You briefly wonder what color his eyes are.  He’s never shown anyone really.

            He pulls you into a comforting, one-sided hug, and you quickly resume your previous position.  Dirk makes a surprisingly good pillow.  You absently wonder just how he feels so warm against you.  “Just ignore the asshat, Jake.”  You hear, his words rumbling from his chest and vibrating against your ear.  You unconsciously wet your lips, grimacing slightly at the bitter taste of alcohol left by Vantas.

————

            You are Dirk Strider again and you just witnessed your bro/crush get mouth-molested by a guy you now hate.

            Your insides are burning.  Boiling.  If Jake wasn’t curled up against you you’d stand up and beat the shit out of Karkat.

            But he is, so you keep your cool.  For now.  The rational side of your mind tells you that Karkat is just drunk off his ass and cant be taken seriously.  You note it but still want to kill him  you should probably distract yourself from this idea.

            Jake yawns again and you take this as that distraction, looking down at him.  His hair is tousled from resting on your chest, and his eyes are closed.  Nobody sees the soft smile on your face.

            A new idea pops into your head.  Very gentle, so as to not disturb the black-haired angel on top of you, you reach around Jake and slowly slide his glasses off.

            For almost thirty seconds, all you do is study his face.  He looks… different.  Not in a bad way.  Without his glasses, Jake looks much less “adorkable” and much more rugged.  It’s breathtaking in a way.  Your chest aches wantonly and your breathing feels restricted again.  You’re not even going to acknowledge the fire in your gut.

            Jake stirs, his eyes fluttering open.  Such a beautiful shade of green.  “Mm… Dirk?”  He blinks and looks up at you.  “Everything alright, chum?”

            Already your smile has been tucked away, but your voice sounds much softer than you expected.  “Yeah.  I don’t think you should sleep in your glasses bro.  It’s bad for your eyes.”  Wow, that actually made sense.  Good save.

            “Oh balderdash, I’m not going to sleep right now you goof!”  He chuckled.  “It’s only ‘round 5:30!  Be a pal and give those back, would you?”

            “Sure.”  You feel a little reluctant as you hand him the eyewear, and he pushes them back on.  “You looked pretty cute without them,” you mumble to yourself before you can even think about it.

            “…Pardon?”

            Fuck.

————

            Once again you are Jake English and you’re pretty sure your best pal just called you cute.

            Dirk’s face is unreadable now, and before he can answer your question you burst out into nervous laughter.  “Wow Dirk, your joshing just knocks my socks off sometimes!”  Don’t be stupid, Jake.  He always jokes around with you.

            He squeezes you in a gentle hug, his voice quiet and low. “Yeah. Sure.”

            You know that you’re not the smartest bloke, but even you could hear the sad note in his words. You tilt your head the tiniest bit.  “Dirk?”

            “Hm?”  He turns his head away a little.  Somehow it hurts.

            “Were you joking?”

            “No.”

            Silence.  Christ it just got hot in here.

            “Oh.  Um.  Sorry, chap.”

            He shrugs.  “’S ok.  Didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

            “Dirk—“

            “Jaaay-keeeey!” Oh blooming hell.   _Vantas._

            Sure enough, when you turn your head you’re greeted by the sight of Karkat heading back over.  He’s giggling still, and you can tell he’s coming back for another smooch.  You frown with distaste and are about to tell this drunk prat off when Dirk’s left hand comes up to your jaw, turning you to face him.  His own face is much closer now, his impassive expression tinged with something… else.  Before you can even say anything  _oh my god_   _his lips are on yours he’s kissing you_  and your mind shuts down.  Your eyes drift shut and you slowly return the kiss.  His lips are all you know, all you want.

————

            Holy fucking christ you cant remember your name, all you can think of is  _fucking hell you’re kissing Jake._

            You noticed Karkat starting to saunter over to Jake, and it was pretty obvious what would happen.  So, in one of your infamous spur-of-the-moment decisions, you decided a better route would be to kiss Jake yourself.  To save him from Karkat.  That was your excuse.

            Except now Jake is kissing you back.

            His rough, calloused hands slide up your clothed chest, skimming over your neck and making you shiver before he tangles his fingers in your hair and deepens the kiss and oh wow he just whined against your lips god was that hot.  Heat flares down between your thighs but you do your best to ignore that.  Somehow he manages to climb into and straddle your lap without stopping the kiss, and you clutch his waist before slipping your tongue out and swiping it across his bottom lip.  He eagerly grants you access and in only seconds your tongues are mingling.  A moan rumbles from the back of your throat and you grip him tighter, your head dizzy from lack of air.  Apparently Jake’s feeling the same way, and he finally breaks contact, panting heavily against your lips.  You’re doing the same on his so you don’t care.

            You open your eyes to see Jake’s still clouded slightly from the passionate kiss.  His glasses are starting to get fogged up by the combination of your breath and his.  He blinks several times, then his eyes shift to look into yours; he’s close enough to just barely make out your eyes, but you don’t care.  His voice is just over a whisper when he finally speaks.

            “Ah… Dirk?”

            “Sorry.”

            Confusion flashes over Jake’s face before he catches on to what you mean. A rough, dry laugh cracks from his throat.  “Now don’t you dare apologize for that, chum.  It was spectacular.”

“Oh.  Well then.”

            His fingers are slowly loosening their grip on your hair.  He chuckles.  “Mm-hm.”

            “We should really do this again sometime.”

            A frown crosses his lips.  “Well can’t we just continue right now?”

            That earns another rough chuckle from you.  “Well of course we can Jake, I was just—mnf!”

————

            You are suddenly Jake English because Dirk is a little busy with being snogged.  You’re the one doing so.

            You felt so happy you worried your ribcage would burst at Dirk’s words.  Not even waiting for Dirk to finish his sentence, your lips crashed against his again.  It’s clumsy as all hell but you couldn’t care less, Dirk Strider wants you just as much as you want him.  Your eyes are already closed again, all you can feel is Dirk, all you can taste is him, such bloody sweet nectar for your parched heart.

            A moan catches in your throat when you feel Dirk’s hands slip under your shirt, slowly tracing every muscle on your chest as he glides them upwards.  You break the kiss sooner this time due to your already hard breathing, but you can’t say anything; your mind is too busy slipping from your grasp.  All you can do is pant against Dirk’s jaw and let him touch you, which he seems all too eager to do.  His fingers brush along your nipples and you jerk your hips involuntarily against his, moaning.  Both of you are suddenly very aware of how hard the other is.

            You can hear Dirk groan next to your ear, oh sweet lord does that sounds delicious.  You want to—need to—make him do it again, so you repeat the action.  His hands have moved to your back, nails digging just slightly into your shoulderblades as another moan wracks his body.  You grunt, planting kisses along the blond’s jawline as he tilts his head up to pant for air.  You’re breathing just as hard, but you don’t dare stop.  You don’t think you can.

            “Nnh, Jake…”  He manages to say, his voice rough.  “Th-this… is pretty hot.”

            You chuckle gruffly, moving your hands so your arms are hooked under Dirk’s, pulling him closer so your chest is on his.  You can feel his breathing through your thin shirt and his own, his heated body against yours, its so perfect it makes you ache both in your chest and down in your crotch.  You can’t help it if you’re a horny bastard.  You know Dirk is too.  So it’s high time you give him what he wants.  Without another thought you begin rutting into the coolkid’s erection, panting as you cling to him.  Even over the pounding in your ears you can hear Dirk’s soft moans.

————

            Hang on, what was your name again?  Oh right, Dirk Strider.  It’s a little hard to concentrate when your best friend is dryhumping the living fuck out of you.  That doesn’t mean you’re complaining.

            He’s whining in your ear, panting your name every now and then as he pushes against you, oh god this is so good but you want more and you know he does too.  You will yourself to open your eyes and look around the room, breath hitching in your throat when Jake grinds harder against you and sends spikes of pleasure across your skin.

            To your surprise, the room is empty.  The door is closed, and you can only assume it’s locked.  Trying to make sense of it over the intense bouts of pleasure—like  _that oh god_ —is all but impossible until you just barely catch sight of a note on the table next to the couch. Written on it is one word in bubble-gum pink: “Wonk”, followed by a winking smiley.  Your mouth curves into a smile before a gasp tears it away.  You’d owe Roxy a fuckton for this.

            Alright, Strider, no more loafing around.

            Your hands slide out from under Jake’s shirt and up to his shoulders, pushing him back gently.  The resulting protest from him turns into a squeak as Dirk uses his flashstepping skills.  In the blur of a second, Jake’s on the floor with you on top of him.  You take off your shades to have a better view of the handsome boy beneath you.  His eyes widen at the sight of yours, and even through his heavy breathing he smiles brightly.

Leaning down, you push up his shirt and slowly kiss his chest, earning you a soft moan.  The sound goes straight to your throbbing erection, and you hum happily on his skin before pushing your hips against his.  The resulting heavy moan is even more delicious.  You want to do more, but for now this will have to do.  You restart the rhythm Jake had set on your lap, slower and harder than the other. He clutches your shoulders, panting.  Your hands move almost of their own accord, one sliding to the taller boy’s waist and the other going to cradle his jaw.  You can feel his vocalizations along there, buzzing against your hand just slightly.  God does it feel good.

            Your mind is starting to haze again, so you kiss your way up Jake’s neck to lick along the outer shell of his ear.  He whimpers in response, another wonderful sound.  Your pace increases.  The waves of pleasure are immense, and your field of awareness zeros down to just you and Jake.  You close your eyes and there’s nothing else but him, his moans are rough and strained now, he’s panting your name urgently.  The fiery pleasure crashes into you in waves, your strokes are shallow now, erratic as you pant against Jake’s ear and clutch him.  His hands move to the small of your back, where your shirt has bunched up.  You can’t hold back the moan at his bare touch.

            “Jake,” you manage to choke out between pants.  Your voice is embarrassingly raw and heavy, but you’re too far gone to care.  “I… I’m gonna…”

            He says nothing but tightens his grip on you, resting his head between your neck and your shoulder.  The waves are coming faster now, crashing on top of one another, oh god it’s  _so good you can’t_ ­—

            You topple over the edge, moaning his name.  Just barely over your own voice you can hear Jake let out a strangled mewl, his nails digging into your skin to send out white-hot pleasure over the pumping red you can dimly see behind your eyelids.  Your hips give one last automatic thrust, and in the back of your mind you dimly note that Jake’s shorts feel damp already.  You’re still too caught up in the emotions to care.

            For almost thirty seconds the two of you remain a heated, panting mass on the floor.  The afterglow is fucking beautiful, and you can see how it earned that title.  Jake’s hand moves up to stroke your hair slowly, and his head is now resting on the floor.  He’s the one who breaks the comfortable silence once both of you have stopped breathing so hard.

            “Well, chap… I didn’t know you fancied me.”

            A scratchy chuckle. “You clear on that now, English?”

            He laughs in return, moving to plant a soft kiss on your head.  “Very, Strider.”

            You don’t think you’ve ever felt so happy in your entire fucked-up life.

            After another thirty seconds you disentangle yourself from him; he protests but you silence him easily.  Helping him up, you simply pull him back down onto the couch next to you.  He hums happily as he rests his head on your chest, and you can’t help but smile as you kiss the top of his head.  Your hand moves up to stroke his hair as your legs end up tangled with his again, and he mumbles your name one more time before falling asleep.  You follow soon after.

————

            Your name is Roxy Lalonde, and your smile is bigger than ever as you watch your two male friends fall asleep in each other’s arms.

            Silently you close the door the rest of the way, giggling to yourself.  It was about damn time those two get together.  So what if you peeked on it for a little bit.  It was good to have them finally quit that silly dance of almost-more-than-platonic love.  Still smiling, you turn away with a bottle still in your other hand.  Now you just had to go find Jane and the plan would be complete.

            This party had been interesting, indeed. 


End file.
